


The Left Side of Lightning

by kerralee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward baby turtle Stiles, Creeper Sourwolf, Derek/Chris eye sex, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Original Character(s), Sassy Isaac, second hand embarrassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerralee/pseuds/kerralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' life goes from pretty freaking awesome to disastrous the moment the new pack came to town for mating season. Now there's new hunters, new werewolves, dead bodies piling up and the same sour wolf who still wants to rip out his throat with his teeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (Condoms and Chains)

When Derek scheduled a pack meeting for after the quarter final lacrosse game-which Beacon Hills happened to win- Stiles didn’t expect this. He was expecting the usual lectures about not using their abilities during lacrosse and that all six of the pups needed to learn to be more inconspicuous. That would have been the usual and Stiles could just  laugh at them until Derek decided he was going to lecture him about his incessant need to talk about private matters publicly-because of course Derek would know about everything Stiles would have said during school.  

Ultimately that would have been better than what is in the middle of Derek’s death trap of a living room. Although it’s not so much of a death trap now, every day for the past three weeks the pack as well as Stiles and Allison have been attempting to restore the house to its original glory which Stiles repeated numerous times, in a row, that it’s not going to happen without a real construction crew. Derek settled the argument with a murderous glare and a flash of red eyes.

Stiles is not a coward. He’s just a little attached to his meaningless life and contrary to popular belief Stiles knows better than to give Derek another reason to want to rip his throat out, with his teeth.

Most of the time.

The point is their combined knowledge about construction work has resulted in the plumbing, electricity working only for the bottom floor as there isn’t much of a top floor still. They also managed to re-plaster the walls on the bottom floor. This only happened after Isaac got lectured for attempting to tip the mixture down Jackson’s shorts.

Allison and Lydia-Erica told them there was no way in hell that she was going shopping with them- gave the den a woman’s touch three days ago by going out and buying Derek lots of new furniture.

The next three hours was spent with Derek going ape shit after the delivery men had left. There was no inch of the house left that Derek hadn’t scented. It would have been amusing for Stiles had Derek not decided to scent him as well. Apparently because he was human the alpha scent doesn’t stay permanent to other supernatural beings. He doesn’t understand it but he wasn’t arguing about the sudden fact of Derek rubbing his body all over him.

However, what they find is a rather large pile of chains-that Stiles is totally not thinking about being chained to Derek’s bed and fucked out-and a pile of condoms. This is the last thing that would come to mind that is important enough to drag them away from partying on a Friday night.

               “Uhm, Derek what is all this?” Scott questions from beside him, his voice breaking.

Stiles can feel his cheeks come to life with the burn of scarlet embarrassment.  He turns his gaze away from the mound and the elephant in the room that just happens to be his big gay crush on Derek freaking Hale. Not that crushing on the male gender was news to him. He had come to terms with his sexuality when he was fourteen, he just well, hadn’t come to terms with his sexuality towards one alpha werewolf who just so happened to only want to murder him eight days out of seven.

Yeah he was screwed. Not in the ‘Derek-is-screwing-me’ way either.

Derek tells them to take a seat from somewhere-probably behind them as he just stares with murderous intent, cause, well y’know, Derek’s a creeper like that-and they all obey immediately.

They’ve learned to listen to him.

On occasion.

Maybe once every full moon.   

They take their seats on the new couch without a word as Derek watches them through the corner of his eye. Most of his attention is focused on the bags of takeout he bought before they arrived. If he wasn’t rich there is no doubt in his mind that he would be broke by now. Nine times out of ten he’s buying them lunch or dinner sometimes both and sometimes breakfast, brunch, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner and supper because they are growing werewolves and Stiles is a growing Stiles.

Derek sets the bags down on the coffee table before crossing his arms. His lips are pursed as he observes Jackson and Scott scuffle to find the bags labelled with their names.

It’s a long story about the names on the bags, one that involved Jackson and Scott fighting over the last pork rib, Lydia’s favourite dress being ruined and Jackson tripping over and landing with his face in Isaac’s crotch. None of them have spoken about it again, except Stiles, who brings it up every other day because it pisses Derek off and turns Isaac into a tomato.

Stiles huffs and pulls out the box of pizza, and yes, Derek may just like him a little bit more than he originally thought because the others got Chinese. Again. Scott protests from beside him but Allison commands him to eat. And like the whipped werewolf he is he obeys.

Allison is his favourite. She has Scott eating out of the palm of her hand whenever she flashes him with her dimpled smile.

Stiles is sure the smile on his face as he leans back into the black cushions is smug but he got pizza. He glances over to Derek as he takes a bite of one of the slices. The alpha is wearing his ‘I should have told you this before’ expression that is essentially well related with his guilty expression.

On a scale of one to ten of things that could possibly go wrong in his life this is probably a thirteen. No, no maybes. This is definitely a thirteen.

               “Tell us Derek,” he offers through his mouthful of pizza, waving his hands around in an almost comical manner. Derek cracks half a smile, a small secret one, and Stiles’ good deed is done for the day.

               “Yeah, are we suddenly becoming your sex slaves or something?” Jackson mocks with a roll of his eyes. His face pales instantly when Derek just stares at him.

Isaac snickers and jabs Jackson in the arm with his chopstick before muttering something about Jackson in a little red riding costume. And okay, Stiles really shouldn’t laugh, he really _really_ shouldn’t laugh but the image of Jackson in a dress and a hood-in a little red riding dress and hood makes his brain short circuit and he chokes out a giggle that have his cheeks heating up again.

Real manly Stilinski. Real manly.

               “Pay attention. This isn’t something to joke about. We’re a week out of mating season and most of you don’t have a mate to get you through the week,” Derek growls, his voice more wolf than human.

Stiles feels his cock twitch in his jeans at the sound and his body turns rigid. This isn’t good. When did Derek sounding like a werewolf make his cock want to jump to attention? Okay there was that one time when-no. No Stiles. Not a good place for your brain to go. He concentrates on pulling the large slice of pepperoni off of the pizza slice because he likes to eat the pepperoni last.

Derek knows about his quirk. Sometimes when it’s just the two of them in the room eating pizza Derek will pick the pepperoni off of his slices and place them on Stiles’ side of the box. It’s the nicest thing the alpha does for him. Stiles contemplated it once and figured out it’s just Derek’s way of showing appreciation for him. A little way of saying ‘you’re as much a part of this pack as the rest’ and sometimes it’s nice, especially when he feels useless and incompetent compared to everyone else.

Maybe his brain was lagging because of his body’s betrayal but it suddenly smacks him in the face or that could have been the fortune cookie Isaac was trying to steal from Jackson. Either way it causes his brain to restart.

Mating season. Heat. Mating season. Derek. Heat. Derek. Mating season. Derek in heat during mating season. Derek needing to mate with someone while he’s in heat during mating season.

Silence was never one of the pack’s strong areas and it lasts for another minute before he’s on the ground, pizza effectively forgotten, laughing like a mad man while the rest of the pack are attacking Derek with questions. Stiles should learn when it’s appropriate to laugh because laughing at seven werewolves’ misfortune of going into heat is probably not the smartest thing he’s done but this was definitely one of the happier moments in his life. For once he has an advantage over all of them. Allison had the advantage too but who is Stiles kidding, Lady Hawkeye always had the advantage.

               “Everyone shut up,” Derek pauses to take a calming breath, regaining enough of his human control to continue talking, “Mating season or Heat as it is more commonly known happens once a year every year from the time you turn sixteen until you turn forty-Jackson before you open your mouth think about what you want to say and just don’t.”

Jackson stares defiantly at him for a few seconds before huffing back against the couch. Lydia spits at him to man up before touching up her lip gloss. The jock flips her off in response as Isaac rests his hand on Jackson’s thigh hesitantly. He flinches and shoves the younger wolf’s hand away, crossing his arms and legs defensively.  

Stiles might need to think a little more on this, progression of their relationship. Also known as the one that was nonexistent until Derek turned Isaac into a werewolf.

               “This is your first heat so it’s going to be agonizingly painful. You won’t know anything but the haze of needing to mate and you will almost kill yourself trying to accomplish it. That’s why I’m chaining you all up in the basement.”

Derek has the decency to look slightly displeased with the idea of chaining all his pack up like animals. He’s probably not. There’s probably some twisted part of his mind that will like chaining them up and not having to worry about looking after them for a whole week.

               “So, you’re telling me they are going to be crazy wolfed out sex addicts trying to do each other?”Stiles questions, and no, no he does not like the sound of that. Yep, the perks of being a human controlled sex drive.

Not that he’s getting any or ever got any and the near future, probably the far future as well isn’t looking good for Stiles but at least there’s no chance he’ll become crazy over it.

Okay maybe there’s a little chance.

Maybe in six years. When he’s twenty three. Like Derek.

               “Essentially. After the first heat it’s not as bad as you can learn to have some control over it. Most werewolves choose a mate for Heat that they will mate with every year until either of them finds their mate.”

               “What happens when a werewolf finds his or her mate?” Allison voices and laces her fingers through Scott’s. A dimpled smile plays across her lips as he turns to her with a dopey look on his face.  

Derek clenches his jaw as he clears his throat, not looking at them. Swallowing razor blades seems less painful than seeing Derek’s expression.

               “Depends. Some of us never find out mates during our life time while some others are lucky and find them. If a werewolf has met his mate but cannot be with him or her during Heat he’ll mourn like they died,” Derek says through the thorns in his throat.

Stiles wouldn’t have noticed it because it was so brief but Derek was looking at him. Why would Derek be looking at him? There’s no possible reason for Derek to be looking at him, it was just a trick of the light. Yeah, a trick of the light.

               “That’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” Lydia raises a sceptical perfectly shaped, eyebrow at Derek as the distasteful words leave her lips.

               “Do you want the truth? Laura mourned for the past three years because her mate was murdered by a hunter. During Heat it was ten times worse. The strength of her emotions was heightened tenfold and even when I was with my heat mate all I could feel was her grief. Is that honest enough?” Derek growls, eyes flashing red and Lydia pulls a tight lipped smile.

Stiles gets it. He’s watched his father mourn every day since his mom died. Even without all those werewolf emotional bonds he could feel his father’s grief. It wasn’t the same as his own sadness, his was the loss of a mother but his father’s was a loss of the love of his life. So he gets it.

               “But if we have to be chained up why aren’t you chaining yourself up?” Scott voices and Stiles can just hear the loathing that he won’t get to see Allison for a week. On a good day Scott can’t go without seeing Allison for twenty four hours. A whole week is going to kill him.

It might also kill everyone else, including Jackson. That wouldn’t be too bad. He could live without the constant torture of seeing Jackson’s face every day.

He might be joking about this. Maybe. Probably. Fine, he might have a soft spot for Jackson. A very tiny one, the size of ant poop. That small. Nevertheless Jackson is still the biggest asshole in Beacon Hills.

               “Because Scott, unlike you, my heat mate will be here tomorrow night. Her pack will be here supervising for the week and making sure you don’t kill yourselves,” Derek monotones.

“You have a heat mate? Ha-yeah, that’s funny. How did your sour ass get a heat mate? With your winning charm?” Stiles mocks indignantly. He loathes the jealousy in his voice but really it would have been a nice topic to bring up before Derek goes around and starts rubbing against him

Derek shoots him his infamous ‘I want to rip your throat out with my teeth’ stare before answering him, “She’s been my heat mate since we were eighteen. She isn’t my mate.”  This time there’s no mistaking it, he’s staring right at Stiles.

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say those words are for him but he does and Derek doesn’t care about his feelings on a good day so why would he even need to answer him?

Even still, Derek is staring at him like they were and he can’t help the steady flush rising to his cheeks, colouring them scarlet. He swallows thickly, suddenly finding there isn’t enough oxygen in the room. Honestly it’s stupid because there’s still gaping holes in the windows.

He glances back up to find Derek’s eyes still trained on him and it makes his heart scream.  Stiles can hear his heart pounding in his head and knows seven out of the other eight people in the room can probably hear it too. Hell, he wouldn’t put it past Allison being able to hear it either it’s beating so loud.

               “Okay... so can I get the past five minutes back of my life yet?” Jackson sneers at Stiles. “Why do you get to have sex for a whole week while we get chained up like rabid dogs?” The jock asks as he throws the empty box of Chinese back into the bag. “I’ve got Lydia, Erica and Boyd have already made out so they can fuck and McCall can have Isaac. I’m sure you would like that wouldn’t you McCall? See situation sorted with no need for chains, unless Lydia wants the chains.”

               “Stop mistaking Scott for yourself, Jackson,” Isaac counters. His smirk promises a thousand nights tangled in a mess of sheets and sweat.

The rises of Jackson’s cheeks flush in mortification. He mutters a ‘you’re not my type’ before clenching his jaw tightly shut.

He looks scandalised and the glare Lydia is sending him seemingly doesn’t make his humiliation any better but Stiles is up too high on the amusement cloud for it to make a difference. He never thought he’d actually see the day but it’s here at last, the day when Jackson Whittemore actually blushes.

Not only does he find out Jackson is going to be a crazed sex needy werewolf for a week but he actually witnesses first hand Jackson blushing.

Isaac just might have become his favourite person for this.

Maybe not.

Derek might just hold first place in that category because of the crush thing Stiles has going on. That’s the only reason. Otherwise Isaac would be top of the list.

 

 

It’s a little after eleven by the time Stiles drags himself into his bedroom after watching three hours of Scooby Doo re-runs. A yawn escapes his lips and he drops his bag carelessly against the wall. He doesn’t bother turning the light on and starts tugging off his clothes.

               “Nice boxers,” Derek announces startling Stiles as he’s kicking his jeans to the other side of the room.

               “Holy crap,” he squeaks from his new place flat against the wall. Feeling like he’s about to spit out his heart he gropes the wall blindly and flicks the light on.

Derek is laying casually on his bed with his arms behind his head and his legs crossed. He’s smirking lazily, almost playfully at Stiles and uncrosses his legs.

               “Derek, what the hell are you doing here?” Stiles hisses suddenly all too aware of his half naked body.

               “Waiting for you to come up here for the past three hours while you watched Scooby Doo re-runs,” the alpha deadpans, shifting further down on the bed causing the grey t-shirt clinging to his body to slide up his stomach.

“My dad wasn’t home you could have just came downstairs,” Stiles replies automatically. He probably shouldn’t be thinking about how he’d like to lick over every inch of Derek’s abs but he is.

Would his stomach pull in when his tongue laved over a sensitive spot of skin? What kinds of sounds he’d make if he grazed his teeth over the ripples of his muscles? How would his body react if he sucked and bit at the spot just above the button of his jeans? How would he respond if he su-

Stiles rushes to tug his jacket on, pulling it down over his boxers and ignoring the slightly amused expression on Derek’s face. He walks over to his bed and kicks at the alpha’s leg for him to move. Derek growls but shifts slightly, making just enough room for Stiles to have half his body on the mattress while the other half is on top of Derek.

He doesn’t take the position left for him.

               “Get off my bed,” he whines-demands. He did not whine. Nope. Okay maybe his voice became a little less demanding but a Stilinski man never whines, especially when there are scary dominant alpha werewolves waiting for you to share a bed with them.

That did it.  Now he’s thinking of sex.

Fuck his hormonal teenage mind.

The alpha tugs him down onto his chest-the bed effectively cutting off any further brain activity. For a grand total of ten seconds. He stays silent for a few moments, taking in his new position hard against Derek’s side with his head on his chest.

Derek’s behaviour is strange-no strange would be the understatement of the year. It’s freaking as weird as the time he caught Scott looking up knotting and they haven’t spoken about that ever. Generally the alpha doesn’t like to be touched at all, doesn’t even like to be in the proximity of possibly touching and Derek doesn’t exactly seem like the type to cuddle in bed-not that Stiles had thought about cuddling with Derek.

Maybe one or two times and that’s it.

Who’s he trying to kid? He thinks about it on a daily basis.  

Stiles remembers that he’s lying on Derek’s chest and his stomach drops as belated alarm starts to kick in. “Oh my god, what are you doing? God I’m going to die. Let me up. Der-”

               “You weren’t listening to anything I said were you?” Derek cuts Stiles’ panic off and growls again when he catches an accidental elbow to the rib. “I said we’re going grocery shopping tomorrow so I’m sleeping here tonight.”

               “Oh. Wait-hey, no way in hell are you sleeping on the bed with me you creeper. Animals sleep on the floor while humans sleep on beds,” he argues, struggling against the arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

               “Stiles shut up.” The wolfish growl rumbling through Derek’s body is enough of a warning to silence him.

The alpha exhales loudly and sits up, almost knocking Stiles from the bed. He tugs his t-shirt off before passing it to Stiles. “Put it on.”

Its Derek’s way of saying ‘It’ll be more comfortable than what you’re wearing’ and Stiles smiles to himself. When he done changing shirts Derek is facing the wall with the blankets bunched around his neck.

Now that’s more like the normal Derek he knows-not that Derek’s ever been normal.

Stiles slides down under the covers and wiggles until he’s comfortably lying on his stomach with one arm hanging off the side of the bed. “Goodnight Derek,” he mumbles before falling asleep.

Derek shifts so he’s facing the sprawled out figure. After a while of just watching him the alpha leans over cautiously and slides his nose down the back of Stiles’ neck. He smells like vanilla and honey body wash and that scent that is distinctly Stiles, like the air before lightning strikes, an electrically charged high.

He smells like love.

 

 

               “John!” she screams, shouldering him to the ground.

A gunshot sounds in the darkness and pain shoots down her arm, searing and agonizing. She bares her teeth, snarling at the figures walking towards them.

               “Leave us alone!” She lunges on one of the men, slamming him into the ground. His body is limp before she’s on top of him. “Run! Just go! Run!”

               “Shoot her! God damn it shoot her!”

Another screams as she flings herself towards him. Her palm is sticky and crimson as she knocks the gun from his hand. Her fingers wrap around his throat, claws digging deep enough into the tender flesh to draw trails of blood. He chokes out a gargled noise before his fingers shoot out and slide into the wound, nails digging into her flesh.

She drops him as she howls. The sound reverberates in the darkness, curling around and seeping into the bones of the woods.

               “Keira don’t kill him!” John shouts at her as she slams him against a tree.

Keira growls deeply and slams her fist into the side of his face. She turns to the man and nods slowly. He smiles weakly and nods to the surrounding area. The wolf inside her howls, screams, for the revenge of the two lifeless bodies. Her human exterior hardens and she runs her fingers through her hair.

               “The rest will be coming soon. We need to go,” she commands, gripping her shoulder tightly.

               “But, Keira... we need to honour them.” John’s voice is shaky and his eyes are flitting over the figures. “Keira they killed two of our pack. The killed a human child. A child for god’s sake!”

“Now.”


	2. All Werewolves are Attractive

Stiles digs the palms of his hands into his eyes, stifling a yawn as he does. He drops his forehead again the handle of the trolley as he waits for Derek to finish with the order of meat. It’s not like they need anymore. Half the trolley is already filled with assorted meats and Derek doesn’t seem to be finishing his order anytime soon. He’s surprised someone hasn’t asked them if they’re having a sacrifice with the amount of dead animal in the trolley.

               “Here,” Derek grunts and waves a slice of ham in front of his face.

Let’s be clear, Stiles Stilinski is not a morning person. Will never be a morning person. If he’s awake before seven and doesn’t get at least three cups of coffee and his usual dose of Adderall he’s got a personality worse than Derek. So when Derek is waving ham in front of his mouth and Stiles’ brain is still groggy with sleep his first instinct is to open his mouth.

Derek’s eyebrow creeps higher on his forehead before he reaches forward and slides the meat inside Stiles’ mouth. The pads of his fingers brush against Stiles’ tongue before he pulls them back and rubs them against Stiles’ bottom lip. Stiles parts his lips again and sleepily takes Derek’s fingers back into his mouth. He curls his tongue over the digits, sucking the flavour from Derek’s skin. He can taste Derek underneath the ham and he moans softly. Derek slides his fingers out again and rubs the saliva over Stiles’ lips gently before completely pulling away.

Stiles’ opens his eyes-because when did he close them?-and it’s that moment that his brain decides to kick start. He notices the elderly lady that lives across the road from him glowering at him. His cheeks flare to life as he hangs his head and mumbles a ‘hello’.

Because god, really did he actually suck Derek’s fingers in a grocery store? Did he really have to moan and oh god now his dad is going to not only find out he’s hanging out with Derek Hale, like he specifically told him not to do anymore and Stiles promised he wouldn’t, but he’s going to find out they were performing lewd acts in public. From Mrs James. She’s a notorious gossip. Oh god. He’ll never be able to look anyone in Beacon Hills in the face again. He’ll have to leave the state and change his name to Barry.

And really if Stiles’ life couldn’t get any worse at that moment he looks up to find Mr Argent staring. His expression tells it all, it’s the exact same one his dad had when he found him looking at gay porn-okay maybe Mr Argent’s is more on the side of wanting to shoot Derek in the face right here right now than wanting to shoot himself in the face but the expression is pretty similar.

If there was any god Mr Argent would just shoot him in the face. It would be better than this humiliation.

He glances at Derek who’s smirking arrogantly at Mr Argent. He looks like this happens every day. Screw him. Screw the stupid wolf. Screw his stupid charm. Screw his good looks and just screw his entire existence.   

Forcing out a smile he puts the trolley in fifth gear and speeds off, his cheeks still burning. He slams on the breaks and slides forward a few inches when he almost crashes into Scott’s mom.

Is everyone usually up this early on a Saturday morning? Seriously nothing else could add to Stiles’ humiliation.

               “Oh my god, Mrs McCall I’m so sorry. Lost control,” Stiles says sheepishly and crosses his arms over his chest-over Derek’s t-shirt that he didn’t have time changed out of.

She regards him with a polite ‘good morning Stiles, what are you doing up so early?’There are bags under her eyes, she probably just got off work, and he knows she’d rather be doing anything than standing here talking to him so he forces the most cheerful grin he can at eight in the morning.

It’s about a 2.5 on the cheerful scale.

               “Uhm, y’know, just doing the monthly grocery shopping.”

Mrs McCall gazes at the meat before looking up at him, unconvinced. He fakes another smile and scratches the back of his head uncomfortably.

               “Yeah, so grocery shopping. I should probably get back to that, uh bye,” Stiles rambles, craning his neck around to look for Derek.

Remember when he didn’t think his humiliation could get any worse?

It could.

Derek walks up beside him, standing close enough for Stiles to feel the heat radiating from the alphas body. He leans over the trolley and drops a box of condoms and lube on top of the meat. Stiles can feel the blood drain from his cheeks as the comprehension dawns on Mrs McCall’s face.

               “Holy-no-god this isn’t what it looks like! He’s-we’re-no. This isn’t-no!”

               “This isn’t what Stiles?” Derek asks as he takes a step closer.

He’s smirking, a sly upturn of the corners of his lips and god freaking damn does that really have to be so sexy? Because Stiles should be furious as all hell-everyone is going to know about him being involved in a relationship with someone his father suspected as a murderer-someone much older than him. They’ll call Derek his sugar daddy because face it, he’s rich and hot and why else would a seventeen year old be buying condoms with an older man. Oh god Jackson. What will Jackson say when they’re at pack meetings? He’ll never live this down.

The worst part of it is they aren’t even in a relationship. Derek doesn’t even know about his existence in the field of romance-even if he wasn’t straight. Derek is a ten on his bad days and on his good days he’s about a fifty billion-those are the days he smiles, okay they also may involve some form of semi nakedness and Stiles is about a four on his good days which are few and far between.

Stiles can feel the panic and humiliation twisting his insides, tugging and curling itself into tight knots. His breath comes in erratic short puffs. Before he has time to communicate the panic attack there’s a tight arm around his waist and something-someone is nuzzling into his neck. He can feel the scrape of unshaven stubble and the small movements of soft lips against the tender skin of his neck. His breathing slowly returns to normal. The knots inside his stomach are still bound tight but the steady stroke of stubble and lips calms him.

Until he realises its Derek.

Then he pushes him away with a ‘What the hell?’ and ‘Derek are you freaking insane?’

Derek’s whole face drops and for a moment Stiles thinks it’s hurt he see’s flickering through the wolf’s eyes but in an instant his usual stony expression is back. He growls, low and threatening before walking off with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets.  Stiles sighs and digs his palms into his eyes again.

               “Stiles, honey, if you love him it won’t matter what people think,” Mrs McCall comforts, placing her hand on Stiles’ shoulder gently.

She hasn’t called him honey since he came into the hospital when he was seven after he broke his arm when he fell out of a tree trying to be superman.

Yep this day just keeps getting better and better.

 

Isaac knows he’s the biggest fool. By god he knows it so greatly but he still can’t stop himself. He can’t stop the pull of his heartstrings every time Jackson looks at him-which was always rare at best but now Jackson avoids looking anywhere near him. Until his stupid jock brain thinks he’s still not paying attention.

When Jackson looks at him it’s like all the atoms in his body start to vibrate under his skin and it makes him delirious.

But Jackson’s a dick. He thought it’d deter the rush of need he gets when he thinks about him but it didn’t. Couldn’t. Can’t. It’s one of those things he knows never will.

So Isaac decided to do what he does best. Act. He became a bigger dick than Jackson. Albeit he’s only a dick to Jackson and his stupid jock brain hasn’t figured that out yet.

He was straight before whatever this is. He was straight before he was bitten by Derek-he was slightly surprised he didn’t magically sprout feelings for Stiles instead of Jackson because if Derek was going to turn him into a werewolf and turn him gay it would’ve been more likely for he’d have feelings for Stiles. Derek’s absolutely sold for him. He’d bare his neck for Stiles-he’d lie down and spread his legs for him.

But no. His feelings are for the biggest asshole he’s ever met with his ridiculously high cheek bones and eyes that suck him in like black holes so he knows nothing but Jackson. Then there’s the dusting of freckles on Jackson’s face that he wants to get close enough to count how many there are and the smile that he would give his soul to see every morning. He’s seen Jackson in the showers through fleeting glances and his body is downright obscene. It’s every teenage girl’s wet dream-it’s his wet dream.

No, he was definitely never as straight as he’d like to think and it never started when he was bitten. It started years before-when he was five actually, he didn’t explain his feelings that way though, just admiration for a Jackson that wasn’t the king of douchebags.

Stupid Jackson.

His dad had hit him for the first time that day and he did what any five year old would do: hide in his room until his dad fell into a drunken sleep before sneaking out. There were birds singing to each other in the spring warmth and there was a little blue one sitting on the letterbox that enraptured him. That was before it fluttered away when five year old Jackson came bounding over to him. He stopped right in front of him and held up a daisy-and yeah that’s totally cliché but he was five and it was sweet at the time. Jackson announced that it would make him feel better before taking his hand and dragging him up to his house.

That was the first and last time he’s ever visited Jackson’s house. Jackson took him to his bedroom, filled with toy cars and army men figurines. He sat him on his bed with a tiny smile and went to get the first aid kit. Jackson put some kind of cream on the swelling of his left cheek. He didn’t ask for an explanation or tell him to tell anyone, just put the first aid kit away and sat beside him.

Jackson was animated back then, talked with big hand gestures and seemed like he felt with so much emotion. All the while Isaac just listened, twirling the flower between his fingers. It was a long time after that Jackson stopped talking and stood in front of him. He leaned forward and kissed him.

It was the smallest press of lips that didn’t even last two seconds but it’s how Isaac became the biggest idiot. Jackson didn’t talk to him for years until Isaac joined the lacrosse team. The stupid jock doesn’t remember it, wouldn’t want to remember it and even if he did it’s not like it meant anything on his behalf.  

               “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about sex because I cannot deal with another hormonal driven male right now,” Erica groans, snapping Isaac from his reverie and steals the apple from his hand.

               “No, go right head, take the first thing I’d have eaten all day,” he grumbles, leaning back against the counter. “What’s wrong?”

               “Pin-up boy was hitting on me again,” Erica says in distaste, shooting him a guilty glance. “Stop pining over him, there’s plenty of hot eligible bachelors in Beacon Hills. Like Danny, now he’s someone you could have a lot of fun with. Plus pin-up boy would go totally nuts.”

               “I am not fake-dating Danny. He’s a nice guy and I like my balls being attached.” He cracks a smile because they both know Jackson would castrate him if he even got near Danny. Jackson has rules about pack members dating Danny.

Isaac shouldn’t find it utterly adorable. He tells himself not to find it adorable but the traitorous part of his brain does anyway.

 Jackson walks into the kitchen, smirk in place until he notices Isaac and it drops instantly. He yanks open the fridge door and spends a few moments leaning against before grabbing a bottle of water.

Erica smirks at him and promptly stalks out of the room. Isaac can hear her muttering to herself about testosterone filled teenage werewolves before she closes the front door.

               “Took your tiny jock brain three minutes to decide you wanted water?” Isaac mocks with a smirk of his own.

               “Here’s an idea, why don’t you go screw yourself Isaac?” Jackson responds flatly and slams the fridge door. He keeps his eyes firmly focused on the bottle of water in his hands.

Isaac drags his gaze over the jock languidly and settles for resting his eyes on the sweat soaked t-shirt clinging to the contours of Jackson’s body.  He swipes his tongue over his lips and shifts uncomfortably. If he was Derek he’s be seeing red because Jackson’s nipples are hardening under the shirt as he takes a drink from the bottle.

His fangs start to elongate as the scent hits him and he tries not to double over. It’s intoxicating, like being drunk off someone. He needs to do something-touch something-Jackson. He needs to touch Jackson, put his hands on him, his lips, needs to have skin on skin contact he just needs to touch him and he needs to touch him now.

He slides along the bench, eyes golden and wild as he pushes Jackson against the fridge causing the bottle to thud against the floor. He slides his fingers down Jackson’s arms gently, like he’s not two seconds away from losing the last shred of control and taking him on the spot. He can feel Jackson’s hands on his chest in a feeble attempt to push him away and it makes him want more-need more-just need Jackson consenting and willing to let him have this.

               “Get the fuck away from me,” Jackson growls shakily, fear adding to the lust cloud in his head.

He doesn’t want this. He tells himself he doesn’t want this like if he repeats it enough times Isaac will smell it on him and stop. Just stop screwing with him-stop trying to force his feelings on him-just stop.  But Isaac is pressing his body against him, pinning him against the fridge door. His hips jerk against Isaac’s thigh sharply, grinding his erection roughly against the fabric of his jeans.

Isaac sucks his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress a groan, his fangs breaking the skin. Blood trails down his lip as he presses his cheek against Jackson’s and whispers hotly into his ear, “Why don’t _you_ screw me Whittemore.”

That’s it for Jackson’s self control. He chokes out a whimper and clutches at the back of Isaac’s shirt as he pushes his thigh between his legs. He rolls his hips roughly, mewling at the friction.

If Isaac was drunk before, now he’s wrecked. That sound. Since when could Jackson make a sound like that-a sound that makes his whole body thrum with need? God he needs to hear that sound again- needs to draw it out and make it last for hours.

Jackson can feel Isaac’s claws dig into his skin as his hands wrap around his hips and god, he’s pulling him harder against him. His moan turns into a hiss as he throws his head back and hits it against the fridge. The pain only adds to the dizzying feeling of pleasure as he rocks his hips desperately. He’s so close, so _so_ close just from this alone-from Isaac’s mouth on his neck and his leg grinding against his dick-from Isaac and it just turns him on more. Shouldn’t, but it does.

The knot in his stomach yanks tighter and he mewls louder. He claws down Isaac’s back, wanting-needing more and feels blood coat his nails-his very werewolf nails and that just makes it worse. He forces his eyes open and Isaac’s wolfed out as well. It’s elicits another moan from his lips. Being wolfed out shouldn’t cause his cock to throb in want.

He angles his head slightly as Isaac’s fangs dance over his neck and rocks erratically against him. His breathing is coming in a short melody of pants and mewls as the knot in his stomach becomes unbearably tight. He clenches his nails against Isaac’s back and whines wantonly. He needs to come, needs the knot to break-no needs Isaac to bite him, needs him to make him come-claim him.

One of Isaac’s hands drops from his hip and grabs his ass beneath the fabric of his shorts. He feels the immediate pain of Isaac sinking his fangs into him but Isaac’s jerking his hips at an animalistic pace and it blocks out the pain. He scrapes desperately at anything-everything, moaning loudly as the knot snaps. His vision whites out and Isaac is frozen against him.

It takes Isaac a few minutes to get his breath back-to get some kind of semi coherent thought process-after he pulls away from Jackson’s neck. His eyes open lethargically and the sight in front of him is almost enough to make him come again. Almost. Jackson looks completely euphoric, head mid throw back, fangs bared and his cheeks flushed pink. 

His jeans feel sticky and warm and it should be disgusting but this is Jackson-who also came in his shorts-Jackson who he wants more than anything. It takes the sting away until he realises Jackson’s come seeped through his shorts onto his jeans. Now he has two wet patches to clean-two. Jackson came on him. Kind of. He shouldn’t want to run to the highest building in Beacon Hills and scream that. Shouldn’t but does.

Jackson needs longer to regain control of his body. As soon as he forces his eyelids open Isaac carefully sets him down. He brings a finger to his face and ghosts it across his skin gently. There’s a small, fond smile on Isaac’s face and Jackson blames it on his post orgasmic state that he’s not moving away from the finger.

               “Next time you’re with her you’ll be thinking of me.”

Isaac goes against every desire in his heart to stay here and pulls away slowly, letting his finger fall. He takes half a second to let his eyes linger on the jock before turning on his heel and walking out of the kitchen.

 

She’s dead.

It’s the only thought running through his mind when he sees the woman’s unmoving body in the man’s arms.  He can make out a bullet wound in her shoulder-one he’s all too familiar with-beneath the mass of curls. It changes when Derek is at his side and practically tearing her from the other man’s arms without so much as a please or thank you.

Typical Derek stuff really.

               “Call Allison and get those fucking bullets. Now Scott,” Derek barks and Stiles can literally see Scott’s tail go between his legs as he scrambles to get his phone.

It’s bad. Bad is an understatement. This could be the start of a new ice age-or the Hale residence being set alight again just by Derek’s glare.

Stiles can count on one hand the amount of times he’s heard Derek swear. The first was when Isaac woke Derek up in the middle of the night so he could crawl into bed with him-apparently he had a nightmare and was terrified-he only knows this because Erica was quite happy to explain why Stiles found them in bed together. The second was after he stubbed his toe, who knew werewolves could feel such humanly pain, and the third was when Lydia ran away for three days.

In the Derek files, these three incidents are marked as code red-well he doesn’t have Derek files but he should probably start writing all this information down and cataloguing it. He should start these files really soon because Derek’s behaviour earlier needs to be catalogued.

The other man doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, just let’s Derek carry her out of sight and stays on the front step.

He should have realised it as soon as he saw him. He is a beta-a very loyal beta. He’s heard stories from Derek, on the few times he’s felt like sharing his knowledge about werewolves, about alpha’s that get shot by bullets tipped with Nordic Blue Monkshoo-wolfsbane. They’re dead the moment the bullet pierces their skin. The betas, and in some cases omegas, will start trying to overthrow the alpha-kill them- and from a logical standpoint it’s a more humane way to go, being killed by another wolf than slowly being killed by wolfsbane. Having all of your life sucked out of you-he’s seen it with Derek and it’s not something he wishes upon his worst enemy.

Although, he might wish it upon all the exams he has to take. No actually he does, he wishes all the exam papers to get poisoned and die so he doesn’t have to worry about them.

If she’s an alpha and that bullet is the same as the one Derek was shot with then her pack is gone. Hopefully long, long gone out of Beacon Hills. Hopefully two towns over where Derek can’t get to them. If a pack is found in another alpha’s territory without permission then they’re as good as dead. No, they are dead.

Derek would have to kill them for being in his territory. For entering it with an alpha he knows and then leaving her for dead.

Stiles’ stomach lurches and he digs his fingers into the doorframe to stop himself from visibly flinching. The idea of Derek killing another person-of Derek being threatened for his position as alpha-makes him nauseous.

One person is one too many for Stiles. He doesn’t blame Derek though, he was protecting all of them but having that on his conscience must screw him up inside.

               “Are you going to invite him in or leave him in the cold? You,” Lydia gestures to the man and continues, “You can come in. We’re not going to eat you.”

               “Thank you but I can’t without Alpha Hale’s permission,” he says, keeping his head down and Stiles understands what he’s really saying.

_I’m lucky to have my head._

               “Allison’s on her way Derek,” Scott shouts from the living room and makes his way over to them, Isaac and Erica trailing behind him.

He doesn’t look that much older than them, maybe nineteen or twenty. He’s in his prime years. Not that Stiles knows what the rest of the pack look like but he doesn’t look defenceless. He could have fought to become alpha and protect both of them.

               “I know what happens to alpha’s that get shot with bullets tipped with Nordic Blue Monkshood. Why isn’t she dead right now and why are you here with her? If you helped her escape shouldn’t you both be dead in the woods somewhere?” he blurts out and it’s not the best thing to say.

It’s probably the worst thing he could say.

Scott and Isaac are in front of him the moment the words leave his mouth, which honestly, isn’t very comforting. Knowing his luck the beta has probably been a wolf for years where Scott and Isaac are just baby werewolves.

The beta’s eyes shift from a cloudy grey to a raging amber as he lifts his head. His jaw is clenched in a fashion that reminds Stiles too much of Derek but also too little, because this isn’t Derek. This is some random wolf that wouldn’t hesitate in ripping his throat out. 

 Scott and the beta stare each other down for a few seconds-that Stiles isn’t exactly sure are not minutes-before the beta blinks away the wolf inside. A smile cuts his lips; it’s forced and doesn’t reach his eyes. Maybe it’s a wolf thing, being strong when you look like your whole world is falling apart. If it’s a wolf thing Scott definitely doesn’t have it, neither does Jackson.

               “I owed a debt, it’s been paid.” His voice is empty and smooth, like a hollowed shell.

Their conversation is cut short as Allison’s car comes tearing along the driveway and she’s out of it before Stiles thinks she’s turned off the ignition. Derek is at the doorway in less time than it takes for Scott to say ‘he’s in the bedroom’.

Stiles wants to say something, anything to make him feel better but he’s never good with words. Especially when it counts. Now counts. If this alpha doesn’t make it he doesn’t know how Derek would react. He would never be as frantic as he is now if it were one of them, maybe it’s the years of friendship or maybe it’s because she’s the only friend he has left? It’s a thought that’s been sitting at the back of his head for weeks now. They aren’t Derek’s friends. He turned them because an alpha is stronger with a pack.

They are just part of the burden of being an alpha.

               “Get out of the way,” Derek commands gruffly and snatches the bullets from Allison. He doesn’t utter another word as he returns to the bedroom.

               “Allison, are you okay? You’re not in trouble with your parents are you?” Scott asks, that same puppy dog look on his face as always when he’s around Allison. She nods quickly and steps inside the house, flicking her gaze to the beta who doesn’t even spare her a glance.

That’s something new. Most sane men look at Allison and admire her attractiveness but the beta acts like he doesn’t even know she’s there. He doesn’t even look at Lydia or Erica, now that’s weird because Lydia is the most beautiful woman Stiles has ever seen in real life. Erica is second on that list.

It figures though. This beta is insane.

There’s nothing human about the scream that tears through every inch of the house. It chills Stiles’ bones to the point his whole body is aching. Bumps rise all over his skin but the sound barely registers to his human hearing-it’s like a high pitched ringing just out of reach from him. He chances a glance around. Scott, Lydia and Erica have their hands over their ears while Isaac is curling into himself. He’s shaking and whimpering and Stiles is about to tell him it’s okay but the beta catches his attention first.

               “Keira? Keira please. Fuck, please,” his voice is a broken sob.

               “Didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily did you?”

Stiles turns so fast he thinks he might have given himself whiplash. It’s painful anyhow. Keira is walking towards them-her skin recolouring as she strides. Derek is leaning against the wall with an actual smile on his face, it’s small and fond but it’s still a smile.

He may wish that smile is for him. Only for him. But he doesn’t dwell on it.

The pack all manage to shuffle out of the way, over to Derek as they try not to interrupt the exchange between the two.

Awkward would be the biggest understatement of the year.

               “John, it’s okay,” Keira says as he tugs her forward and holds her like the pieces of his world are falling back into place. She brings a hand to the back of his neck and pulls his face away from the crook of her neck before nuzzling their faces together.

               “Well this has been fun,” Lydia comments in discomfort as the two start kissing.

Stiles kind of wants to die at this because when did alphas and betas just randomly kiss? Does that mean Derek randomly kisses the betas? He couldn’t exactly see Derek kissing any of them-okay maybe three out of the six: Erica and Lydia because they’re she wolves and beautiful; Scott because all the attractive people seem to be attracted to Scott.

Maybe Isaac as well but Isaac is more like the baby of the pack. He gets away with more things than anyone else and if Stiles is to really face the truth. Isaac has ‘Baby Derek’ written on his forehead-not literally, although he could and it would be hilarious, but the admiration and the ‘You’re my biggest hero’ looks in his eyes are dead giveaways.

               “Y’know, we could do that Jackson,” Isaac states cockily with a smirk to the jock that is walking up the steps of the porch in a suit-apparently he had to go to an early dinner with his parents.

John looks like a love sick puppy wolf when the alpha pulls away, an expression Stiles is starting to associate with any werewolf that’s whipped by a woman. Keira just smiles-like it’s natural to just start kissing someone in someone else’s doorway. It’s not natural.

               “What you did was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done and believe me you’ve done a lot of stupid things,” the she wolf pauses and turns to Derek, eyes flashing red, “You keep his stupid ass right here and if he even tries to leave. Kill him.”

Stiles looks across to Derek who is much closer than he remembered, actually that’s a lie, he’s standing next to him and their shoulders are touching. He’s nodding slowly wearing his infamous blank expression. It takes him a moment to realise it but its there. Derek’s amused; it’s dancing in his eyes and twitching at his lips.

How could this stupid werewolf find a threat of killing someone funny?

               “What time should I expect you back?” Derek asks, ignoring the disbelief on Stiles’ face.

               “Give me an hour. Michael’s taken on alpha right?” she looks at John for confirmation. He nods with a glare. “Maybe less if his ego has exploded his head already. Derek, I will gladly serve his ass to you on a plate within the hour. Don’t look at me like that I’ll be gentle not to hurt him too bad before you can sink your teeth into him or if you’d prefer-”

               “Keira, shut up,” Derek snarls which would be utterly terrifying except he’s blushing. 

Stiles didn’t think it’s possible to make Derek blush.

Apparently he’s wrong because it’s right there.

 

All werewolves are attractive. There must be some rule that anyone given the bite or is born with the bite is attractive.

Michael looks like he just stepped out of a magazine and generally Stiles reserves that reference for Jackson and Lydia so it’s either saying something about werewolves or his ability to find the worst people attractive.

Because yeah, Michael is attractive but he’s a douche, and not the kind of douche Jackson is. He’s a dangerous douche that looks like he’ll betray you in a heartbeat-at least Jackson is through that phase of douchery.

Douchery isn’t a word Stiles knows but it’s suitable for this purpose.

He has nothing on Derek though-no one does. Derek is godly attractive. If he was Greek he’d say he was the reincarnation of a Greek god, and if he was Roman he’d say he was the reincarnation of a Roman god. But Derek is just sour Derek so he only gets to be referred to as godly attractive. Maybe he’s the werewolf god reincarnated. He’ll have to look that up later.

The new pack keeps their tails between their legs whenever they’re around one of Derek’s pack through rest of the evening before dinner. There are thirteen of them-ten wolves and three humans- including the baby and the eight year old. Stiles doesn’t bother with their names since they don’t bother asking for his. He does notice their behaviour though. Other than keeping their tails between their legs they seem like they’re in mourning. He attempted to one of the humans about it but she refused, telling him that pack things stay within the pack. It sounded like something that would come from Derek but he doesn’t question it further because he’s not in that much of a hurry to be bitten by a werewolf.

 By nine he’s decided that most of the pack seems nice-except for Michael and the eight year old who keeps asking why Stiles smells funny and why the kitchen smells funny. To be honest Stiles doesn’t smell funny-he probably still smells like Derek so that’s not funny but the kitchen smells a little bit like come. Anytime the eight year old brings it up Stiles gets flustered and doesn’t know what to say so he does what he does best and ramble. It stalls long enough for the kid’s mother keeps apologising and scolding the kid before dragging him away.

Then there’s the baby. Stiles wants to keep the baby. He wants to cuddle the baby for all eternity. He doesn’t even know the baby’s name though-it might be Liam-but he still wants to keep the baby and whenever he has the baby-which has been a lot of the evening- Derek is glued to his side. He doesn’t say anything-actually he looks a little bit like he’s drunk-just stands by his side, scenting the air every few seconds.

Liam looks a bit like Derek if Stiles thinks about it-which between the cooing and wondering why everyone keeps looking at Derek and himself like they’re about to have sex on the spot-which they aren’t- is quite a lot of the time. He’s got a mop of soft raven hair that sticks up everywhere-a little like Derek’s when he’s just got out of bed-and his eyes are the same grey-green and then maybe the dead giveaway are the high cheek bones. So basically the baby is a miniature sized Derek although he’s really not.

Keira walks in the room and it hits him. Liam looks like Keira and Derek. He’s got Keira’s button nose, fleshy cheeks and regal quality that reminds him more of a tigress than a wolf but that’s not important. He doesn’t understand where the pale skin comes from since neither of them is near pale but it’s probably just genes-maybe he gets it from granpappy Hale?

It’s totally fine if Derek has a child and it’s totally fine if he’s with someone else.

It’s actually not but he can pretend it is.

               “You have a child and you didn’t bother telling us? I mean sure you had a life before us but don’t you think it’s a big deal and he’s your son. You can’t just go abandoning a child with its mother. I know you’re a lot of things but I never thought you’d be one of those parents who leave and disregard any duties they have,” Stiles blurts angrily. He hands Liam to Scott who looks like he’s about to drop him and walks off, making a show of slamming the door behind him.

A hand is on his shoulder just as he reaches his jeep. He turns around and expects to see Scott but Derek is standing there with the little bundle of werewolf in his arms. Liam is covered in fur, it’s not thick just a dusting of fur on his body and his eyes are that same piercing blue that Derek’s used to be. It’s not meant to be cute, not meant to melt away any anger in him but it does. Seeing Derek holding the baby werewolf makes his stomach flip-makes everything inside him turn into jelly.

               “Stiles I’d like you to meet Liam Hale. He’s my nephew. Laura and Connor’s, Keira’s brother, son,” Derek states quietly, not meeting his eyes. Liam is nuzzling into his chest, making baby werewolf sounds and it’s probably the cutest thing Stiles has ever witnessed.

               “He’s your nephew? Now I feel like the biggest a-meanie in the entire world. Why didn’t you just come out and say that he’s your nephew?” Stiles takes Liam from Derek, partly because he wants to keep the baby and partly because Derek’s a sour wolf and looks like he’s about to kill Liam for drooling on his shirt.

So much for being cool uncle Derek. What was he thinking, Derek could never be cool. He’ll be sour uncle Derek and Stiles can be awesome uncle Stiles who buys him all the cool toys and gives him advice-the human kind of advice because truthfully werewolves suck at giving advice.

               “Only three people know about Liam, you’re the third. If anything happens to Keira and people know he’s the son of two alphas they’ll kill him. If you tell anyone this he’s as good as dead.”

               “Derek, they’ll find out. I’ve been around him for a few hours and I worked out he looks like you and Keira,” he argues, tickling Liam’s cheeks. The baby werewolf giggles and gums at his fingers. It’s kind of totally adorable and Stiles might be manipulated into doing anything if he gets to keep seeing that gummy smile.

               “That’s why you’re keeping him.”

Might. Not will. Might.

               “No. First off he’s a human not a dog you can’t just give him away to a good home as you please and secondly-secondly I’m not going to come home with a baby-do you know what my dad will say? No. This is not happening. This is not my life. Stiles wake up now, you’re just dreaming about having Derek’s pups-”

Scratch out all of the times he thought he’d said the stupidest thing. This right here is the stupidest among all the stupidest things he’s said in his entire life.

               “Stiles, you want my pups?” his voice sounds like sex. Which is kind of insane because sex doesn’t actually sound that nice from all the porn movies he’s seen but Derek’s voice is choked and gravelly, like he’s restraining himself and it goes straight to his dick.

               “No-I-uh-I don’t want pups-not to say I want your children either-I don’t want your pups or children-I-I don’t want pups or children. At this age.”

Derek looks like he’s drunk again, his eyes are red and his pupils are blown wide. It’s unnerving, really _really_ unnerving because he doesn’t want to be killed by Derek. Especially while holding a baby werewolf.

               “Okay, good talk. Bye.” He shoves Liam back into Derek’s arms and clambers into his jeep. The ignition takes a few tries but it clicks over and he’s speeding out of the driveway as fast as his baby can take him.

Which is fast when it needs to be.

But not fast enough for him to miss Derek’s jeans-and no he was not deliberately looking at his lower area he just happened to glance upon it.

Derek’s horny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this being so late and so long. I just got carried away, I hope I didn't disappoint.


	3. Claiming, Knots and Naked Werewolves

 

Stiles arrives at Derek’s estate sleepy eyed and irritated. Lydia had called him half an hour earlier just to inform him that they were out of diapers and baby formula and as Derek had selected him to be Liam’s mother he was the one that had to go do the shopping. At five am. On a Sunday morning. After he never went to bed until three am because his hand was busy jerking his dick for two hours.

 What do four month old babies eat anyway?

He drags his feet along the driveway, noticing the two wolf packs already outside working on the house but not taking it in. If he was paying attention he would have noticed someone watching him. It takes the blink of an eye and that someone’s in front of him. Mind still on the side of slow, Stiles spends longer than he should trying to remember who the attractive werewolf in front of him is.

His jaw is clenched and he’s staring at Stiles like he’s a raw steak he’d like to rip apart. Stiles blinks at him repeatedly with his mouth dangling open for a few moments before his brain jump starts on its five minute timer.

               “Dude could you not just appear right in front of someone? Where did you come from anyway? Were you hiding up in the trees waiting for me to get here because I gotta say that’s a little creepy even for a werewolf. That’s even creepier than the time I woke up and there was a fully alpha’d Derek hovering over me. That could be a phrase. You got alpha’d. Aha I’m going to use that every time Derek wolfs out on Jackson for being a douche-speaking of Jackson where is he? I need to give him my daily dose of ‘You’re the pack’s bitch’-wait. Does that mean when they all go into heat they’ll have a giant orgy with Jackson-will they all be fighting to make him their bitch? That’s hilarious. Jackson’s gonna get devirginalised-not that that’s an actual word- by a bunch of horny werewolv-No! This is a serious matter. As the pack’s bitch he’s going to have the most wanted butthole. That’s not cool. Does he have some kind of magical pheromone that wafts from his ass saying ‘fuck me’? Does he because I’m not sure whether to be grossed out or jealous. I need to ask Creeperman this-oh my god that can be Derek’s superhero name. Creeperman. His super powers are super creepiness and super stalking. With all those wolfy senses of his he can find you anywhere.  Shh you mustn’t tell Derek or he’ll rip my throat out with his teeth. He’s bound to know I’m here now-oh god he’s going to be grumpy with me for taking so long. Bye Mitchell.”

               “Michael,” the wolf replies blinking slowly as Stiles brushes passed him, running-waddling-towards the house.

There’s a call of his name-it might have been Scott, probably Scott -and he waves through the multiple plastic bags-because the twenty four hour drug store clerk didn’t know anything about babies either so he bought one of each-before walking into the house.

Derek is waiting inside the entrance for him-probably ready to lecture him about taking so long when there are hungry four month old babies that need to be changed-when he freezes. His eyes are wide, pupils blown and his nostrils are flaring like a bull about to charge at a red flag.

Stiles wonders if he accidentally put the red hoodie on instead of the grey one but the thought flies from his mind when Derek’s eyes turn red. There’s a growling rumbling from deep within Derek’s chest and it’s the only warning he gets before the wolf’s hand is on the back of his neck, steering him down the hall. The touch wakes Stiles up entirely. He’s aware the nails touching his skin aren’t human, are almost painfully animal and the tight grip is more possessive than dangerous. It’s a claim, Derek saying _‘He’s mine. He’s mine. Stiles. Mine. Human. Mine. Don’t touch him or I’ll rip your throat out.’_ It causes his stomach to flip even though he knows it’s just a show of Derek’s alpha dominance.

He’s shoved into the room to find Liam asleep in Derek’s nest-the pile of pillows and blankets on the mattress cannot be called a bed. It’s a nest-maybe a dog’s bed but nest is a more accurate way of describing what the bed looks like. To anyone else it would appear to be something that just happened-like Derek had a fit of rage and threw everything around-but to Stiles it appears methodical. Each pillow and blanket carefully placed and positioned in a way that gives the best advantages of comfort, shelter and protection. You can see the window and the door from any spot in the nest.

It’s his wolf side.  Wolves sleep curled up, they spin around three times to flatten the foliage and curl up for the most shelter and comfort. They can easily spot danger from this position and that’s exactly what the nest does for Derek.

Stiles feels a smile twitch at his lips as he places the shopping bags down in favour of watching Liam sleep. He’s wolfed out, all fur and no eyebrows just like his daddy used to be like before he became alpha.

Wait.

Oh no.

He went there.

Oh crap.

He wants to smack his head against something-anything because now the thought is out there he can’t take it back, can’t look at Derek the same. Derek is Liam’s father-kind of-and his cock shouldn’t find this thought so arousing. Derek’s a father and how is that meant to make him more attractive to Stiles-he should be turned off if anything. He doesn’t need that baggage-he might want it but he doesn’t need it.

What is he thinking? Derek doesn’t actually want him.

Derek is staring when he risks a glance at him. His eyes are redder-if that’s even possible-and there’s the expression on his face starts a fire in Stiles’ stomach. It’s like he knows exactly what Stiles is thinking.

He is so dead.

               “Isaac, Jackson, get in here,” Derek commands staring at Stiles the entire time.

Isaac waddles in a few minutes later, his curls are sticking up everywhere and he’s still in his Batman pyjamas. He gives them probably what has to be the cutest sleepy smile Stiles has ever seen before walking over to the bed and picking up Liam.

No matter how cool he tries to act he’s still very much a baby at heart.  And Derek isn’t a cold hearted bastard, he lets Isaac sleep while the other’s have to work.

They all know Isaac is Derek’s favourite: he’s painfully loyal but also more innocent than anyone Stiles has ever met. He watches cartoons every morning in his super hero pyjamas and always see’s the good side in people-even after what his dad did to him. It’s probably also because Derek likes having someone who idolises him.

Stiles watches as Jackson walks in and takes the shopping bags from the ground. Isaac mumbles a goodnight and waddles back out of the room with Jackson trailing after him-and if Stiles’ eyes aren’t mistaking him. Which they never do. Jackson’s eyes were glued to Isaac’s ass in his tiny Batman boxer shorts.

He really does need to find out what’s going on between the two of them.

His attention is drawn back to Derek when he clears his throat and it dawns on him that they are alone. Alone. In Derek’s bedroom.

               “You can’t come here smelling the way you do,” Derek growls as he flexes his fingers against the material of his jeans. His nose flares and scrunches a few times and Stiles knows it’s a way to prove his point.

               “What do you mean smelling the way I do? Are you telling me I stink because if you are-”

               “Stiles shut up,” he interrupts as he stalks forward and Stiles stops talking.

Derek stops in front of Stiles and he wonders if the fluttering colour change of the wolf’s eyes is good for either of them. They’re flashing like beacons and drawing him in, holding him-capturing him in a trance that he shouldn’t be so comfortable with. The loud, ragged breaths are what snap him from the daze. It sounds like he’s hyperventilating but a quick glance into Derek’s eyes is all he needs to know Derek is fine, if fine looks like it’s about to snap and devour him. 

Every time Derek breathes Stiles can feel the bare touch of their chests and when did Derek get to close to him? When did a slight touch over layers of clothes feel like a thousand electric sparks shocking over his skin?

Derek growls in the back of his throat, more animal and more _wrecked_ than Stiles has heard. It goes straight to his hardening cock and this really isn’t good because Derek will be able to sense his erection. He’ll be able to smell it and if he gets any closer he’ll be able to feel it against him.

“So-I-uhm-I really have to-dude stop looking at me like that-uhm-Derek?” It’s not manly and he shouldn’t even be able to emit a sound this pathetic but he whimpers. Derek is so close now, their chests fully touching and his pupils are enlarging, devouring the red until only a slither is visible.

“You smell like a bitch in heat,” he pauses, emphasising each word, “Are you in heat Stiles?” Derek growls as he presses his face into Stiles’ throat.

               “No-I don’t know what you’re talking about. W-What are you doing?” he asks-squeaks-as Derek noses over his pulse.  “Derek-dude-buddy we should go get L-Liam Isaac’s probably wondering why we’re tak-”

               “Do you know how stupid you are? For someone so smart you’re so stupid sometimes. You come into a house with two different packs smelling like you’re in heat and you expect no one to notice? Then you go and let another wolf’s arousal get all over you-I can smell his arousal for you from here.”

               “I could go shower. That would take away the smell then I could wear your shirt again,” Stiles rambles. He steps backwards, feeling the edge of the bed nudging against the back of his calves.  

He chokes on the words smashing against the back of his teeth. They aren’t the right words, they don’t mean anything. They don’t make sense. They’re just empty sounds, nothing honest or telling about them, but they’re better than this-than the feel of Derek being so close to him.

Derek pulls away and closes his eyes. His breathing is laboured and when he opens them again there’s a twitch of relief in Stiles’ stomach. His eyes are the beautiful shade of grey-green Stiles hasn’t yet come up with a name for and it’s so much better than the alpha red. He can relax enough to breathe with the grey-green.

               “The only way I can keep you safe from your own stupidity and from Michael is if you let me claim you. You need to be claimed Stiles, you need to let me come all over you.” His expression is completely blank as the words escape his lips.

Derek’s insane. He’s completely lost the plot. Gone over the edge. Gone bonkers. Completely bat shit crazy. There is no way in hell-okay maybe all the ways in hell-that he’s going to let Derek come on him.

Stiles can feel his boxer brief’s starting to get wet and even if he tells himself he doesn’t like the idea his dick does. His dick loves the idea of Derek claiming him.

               “Dude, did you take your meds this morning because your creepiness on the creepy scale is through the roof? Or d-did uh someone slip you some kind of creeper pill that makes you want to do-uh- _that_? I can go get Keira if you want I’m sure she’d be able to take care of your little problem-not saying that you’re little because you aren’t. No, I don’t know how big you are I don’t spend my free time thinking about you like that-no I mean I don’t spend any time thinking about you like that. Not that you aren’t an attractive guy-werewolf-wolf guy it’s just that you’re a friend and I don’t think about my friends like that,” he laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head hoping he looks sheepish enough for Derek to forget that this ever happened.

Derek quirks his eyebrow and purses his lips. The alpha red returns to his eyes as he looks Stiles up and down. “By the time I’ve locked the door I want you naked and on the bed ready to be claimed.”

Who is he kidding of course his rambling isn’t going to work. It never works.

He could call out for Scott or any one of the number of wolves that are here but then Derek may just kill him before any of the other’s reach them. It’s not like this would mean anything. It’s just Derek’s show of dominance-just his way of stamping _‘Alpha’s personal property’_ on him. It’s a way of protecting him from the other werewolves.

If those arguments didn’t work his downstairs brain had already concocted a tactic of ‘ _at least you’ll have new masturbating material_.’ And yeah that would definitely win him over. Derek over him and stroking his cock until he comes all over him. Yeah, that might be an image he wants to keep forever.

Stiles lets out a resigned sigh and tugs off the jacket and t-shirt. He hesitates with his jeans and underwear. He’s been naked around other guys before-hello locker room showers-but this is Derek. Derek, who is perfect all over and will make him feel inadequate from the moment his underwear comes off. Derek, who makes his heart do stupid things and want even worse things. Derek, who he’s been crushing on for months but never so much as hinted interest in him back.

He’s shoved onto the bed not so gently and only has a few moments to scramble into a comfortable position before Derek is commanding his attention with a sharp growl.

“Is that what naked looks like to you?” Derek questions gruffly. He leans over Stiles and curls his fingers around the waistband of his underwear. He feels a smirk pull the corners of his lips as the gasp that leaves Stiles’ throat before he yanks the offending articles of clothing off.

God. There’s no way to describe how beautiful Stiles is. The blush heating his cheeks extends down his chest and freckles are dotted all over his skin. His erection is scarlet and glistening with pre-come. He smells like a mixture of love, sex and arousal and its dizzying-like his brain isn’t getting enough oxygen because Stiles is naked and aroused in front of him.

Derek strips himself of his clothes and crawls over to Stiles, settling between his legs. He sits back on his knees and pushes Stiles’ thighs wider apart to expose him fully.  The sight of Stiles’ entrance right in front of him shreds at his control, worsens his desire-causes it to burn white hot inside his veins. He trails his fingers over the flushed skin, mapping out the freckles on Stiles’ chest. “Did you come on yourself here?” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over his nipple.

Stiles whimpers-he can’t even deny it he whimpers-and arcs into Derek’s thumb. He flutters his eyes open and the blush darkens on his skin when he notices Derek’s nakedness. The tip of his dick is red and there’s a bead of pre-come clinging to the slit. He wants to lick it off, wants to suck until Derek is coming down his throat in hot bursts. He reaches down with a hesitant finger and swipes the pre-come from the head of Derek’s cock, not missing the hissed ‘fuck’ that leaves Derek’s lips. He shakily brings the finger to his mouth and sucks on it gently. Derek pins his gaze with his own while he sucks and the pressure over his nipple gets rougher causing him to moan around his finger.

This is all kinds of wrong. It’s not how it was meant to go-Derek was meant to do it quickly and get it over and done with but this, this is so much worse but so _so_ much better.

Stiles glances back down to Derek’s dick, finding more pre-come leaking from the tip notices there’s something there that shouldn’t be. He looks up at the alpha in panic-because what the hell is that giant lump at the base of his dick?

               “It’s called a knot. It helps us breed. You said you wanted my pups does that mean you want me to breed you?” Derek asks with a predatory smirk.

This embarrassment causes the scarlet flush to darken, if that’s even possible now, and all that Stiles can manage is a choked mewl. Derek leans forward, hovering over him, before pinning his arms above his head. He buries his face into Stiles’ neck and mouths at the skin. He laves his tongue over the wildly thumping pulse and smirks when another moan escapes Stiles’ lips.

Pulling back Derek tightens his grip on his wrists before bringing his free hand down to his cock. His fingers curl around his erection as he starts to jerk hard and fast. He growls deeply-all wolf and no human, all dominance and no anger- when Stiles snaps his hips up, thrusting against the air.

The sounds of Stiles’ moans and whimpers make him delirious. He gets high every time Stiles makes a noise and it’s scary, it’s scary as fuck, but the terror only adds to the lust haze inside his head.

               “Fuck Stiles. You have no idea-no fucking idea how badly I want to breed you right now. Want to fuck you out and fill you up with my come. Want to make you mine. Make you so needy for my cock you’ll never want anyone else. Tell me, fuck, tell me how badly you want my dick inside you,” Derek groans, jerking himself faster.

Stiles flutters his eyes as his cock throbs. He wants to be touched-needs to be touched-needs Derek to touch him-needs Derek to do something-needs Derek. He mewls loudly, rocking his hips up into the air to try and get any type of relief.

               “Tell me how badly you want it,” Derek presses, wrapping his hand around both of their erections and thrusts into his hand.

The first touch of their dicks causes the wheels in Stiles’ brain to come to a screeching halt and the only thing he’s aware of is his hips rocking desperately into Derek’s hand. The friction burns and it’s not slick enough and fuck, it’s worse than no friction because he wants _more._ He needs so much more. He wraps his legs around Derek’s waist trying to get anything else from Derek.

               “D-Derek-please. Fuck-Derek breed me. Fuck-want you so bad. Always wanted you-only want you.” It’s choked and comes out more as a whimper than words but Derek lets go of his wrists and his cock.

He whines quietly at the loss of touch but Derek leans over him and starts rutting against his thigh. Stiles pushes his hips up, rocking against the wolf’s stomach desperately. He only lasts a few thrusts before the knot inside his stomach is breaking and he’s clenching his eyes shut, his toes are curling and he’s coming in shuddery hot bursts.

He thinks he passes out for a few minutes because when he has the strength to open his eyes Derek is staring at him completely wolfed out-still in his human form thank god- and straddling his hips. His hand is still jerking his dick, rougher now, and the knot has doubled-probably tripled- in size.

There’s a tugging at the back of his mind that he should be afraid of what Derek could do like this but the post orgasmic haze wins over and he settles for watching Derek stroke his cock. It’s beautiful in a way, Derek wolfed out during sex. He’s letting his whole self be vulnerable to the pleasure it brings and it’s beautiful.

It’s that thought that has Stiles bringing a shaky hand to Derek’s own. He curls his fingers over the alpha’s and let’s Derek guide their hands over his dick. Derek sucks his stomach in and he rocks his hips harder into their hands. The fire under his skin turns into an inferno and everything is suddenly too hot, too little and too much at the same time. It burns him from the inside out as his orgasm hits.

Derek groans as he watches as thick ropes of come splatter over Stiles’ chest and neck. His vision whites out momentarily when Stiles swipes his tongue over the come that lands on his bottom lip.

Stiles notes by the time Derek finishes coming, it’s about another ten minutes, he’s covered in so much come that he doesn’t think he could ever rid himself of all of it. Not that he wants to right at this moment because Derek looks so pleased with himself, so pleased with him.

Derek slides off him, spreading his legs again and swipes some of the come off his chest. There’s a fond-drugged-smile on his lips as he brings his fingers towards Stiles’ ass. He whines exhaustedly at the feeling of fingers rubbing over his entrance. His back arcs involuntarily at the feeling of the tip of Derek’s come coated finger sliding into him. The finger slides in and out of him languidly before another finger slips inside him causing him to rock into the touch.

               “Sleep Stiles,” Derek mumbles against his throat, sliding his finger deeper into him. He moans quietly, the feeling of Derek’s fingers and the knowing of Derek’s come being inside him slowly starting to arouse him again. 

His eyes flutter closed as the warm calling of sleep starts to take over. The feeling of Derek’s fingers working inside him is the last thing he feels before falling asleep.

 

               “How long have you known?”Keira hisses as she flings the door open.

Lifting his head he regards her with a cocked eyebrow. He leans back in the chair and purses his lips in contemplation. He’s known for longer than he’ll ever admit. Since he met Stiles that first time when they were barging onto his property- longer but he’d tried so hard to forget that day that he’d blocked out everything except the horrible. He could never forget the horrible. But Stiles, when he saw Stiles again he remembered. He remembered that little boy that stared at him with big sad eyes from behind the Sheriff’s office door before tripping all over himself and rambling about everything except the fact his family had died. It distracted him for a while, until the Sheriff came back anyway.

               “You can’t pull that silent treatment crap with me Derek Hale,” she growls, slamming her fists down on the mahogany desk. “He’s your mate. And what? You didn’t bother to give me some warning?”

“It’s not relevant,” Derek growls with a flash of red. It’s not so much ‘it’s not relevant’ as it is ‘he’s a weakness I can’t afford right now’. It’s selfish but it’s the truth. He can’t afford others knowing that Stiles is his mate. It’d be like advertising to every beta in Keira’s pack how to manipulate him, how to kill him.

He put Michael in his place for now but there’s something about him that gives off the vibe ‘stupid and persistent’. He should have killed him half an hour ago instead of kicking his ass, at least Stiles would be safe.

“Not relevant? Are you honestly this stupid? Did you learn nothing or have you gone crazy? My betas are already questioning my authority and now Michael is out there ripped half to shreds because he got his arousal all over some teenager that can’t control his hormone-”

Derek lunges across the table, slamming the other wolf into the floorboards. A growl rumbles through him as he bears his teeth at her. There’s no fear in her eyes when she meets his gaze. It occurs to him that he’s never seen fear in her eyes not even when she was shot, not even when Connor was killed by hunters last year, not even when half of her pack wanted to fight for her rightful position. Keira has never shown fear-maybe when she’s by herself but she’s what an alpha is meant to be. Fearless, loyal and with more sympathy than necessary.

It makes him envious, that she is everything that he isn’t-everything that he won’t ever be.

               “So you do love him. Nice to know now get your ass off me. I may like to fuck you one week out of a year but I prefer to do it when I have no other choice and-well, when you don’t smell like-like you do. It’s disgusting.”

               “I don’t-that and you know you don’t smell so lovely yourself. Having fun with your boy toy beta?” Derek questions with a smirk. He lets out a chuckle at the blush Keira replies with and ignores the punch to his arm.

               “Seriously, get your fat ass the hell off me.”

Derek gets up and leans back against the desk. He watches as she stands up with his arms crossed and ignores the sad smile she gives him. He knows what it’s for but it doesn’t make him feel any better. She leans against the desk beside him, the momentary playfulness in her eyes nonexistent.

               “Every alpha and beta you come across is going to woo him because he’s human,” she mumbles, pushing the brown tresses out of her face.

               “I know.”

               “No you don’t know. He’s a human Derek. He can fall out of love with you at any time and anyone else can claim him. Even if he becomes so acquainted with werewolf lore he can recall it back to you without thinking he will never truly understand what it means to be a mate. Derek, he’s never going to know how you actually feel for him even if you tell him you love him,” she explains, for what Derek thinks might be the tenth time since they’ve known each other. He’s got the ‘If your mate is a human he will never know your feelings and could leave you in an eternal depression’ speech before and it’s never bothered him but now, since his mate is a human, it might bother him just a little.

               “I know.”

               “It took a year for you to get enough passed your family’s death for you to even allow yourself to feel aroused. You wouldn’t even let anyone hug you-even if you tell me you won’t care if he falls out of love with you I know you will. It’ll be as bad as losing your family and you never will feel for another wolf or human being in your lifetime,” Keira says quietly and leans over to press her nose against his cheek. It was the way she first showed her affection for Derek when Laura and he came to their pack. It took a few months for him to allow her to do it but she all but pushed and shoved her way passed every guard he put up until there was enough of a mutual, if annoyed, tolerance for it to be called a friendship.

               “Are you saying I should give him the bite?” Derek monotones, pulling away from the action and glares at the other alpha. He knew it wasn’t much of a glare from the smile and shake of the head he received in reply but it would do.

Keira pushes off the desk giving him one last look before walking over to the doorway. “I’m telling you to stop playing with him and-even if you can’t say it yet-make him sure that it’s not just possession you feel for him. Trust me, a woman knows these things,” she pauses at the entrance and turns around with a smirk. “Oh you know your ‘I’m too pretty to be mortal yet have the personality of a snake’ beta and the one with the real cute one y’know with the curly hair and the puppy dog look on his face all the time? The word ‘mates’ comes to mind when I see them,” Keira grins devilishly and walks out of the study.

Derek doesn’t panic that Jackson is going to steal Isaac’s virginity, he doesn’t panic about Isaac wearing those cute little Batman boxers and he certainly doesn’t worry about having to be the one to give Isaac away on his wedding day. Except he does worry but maybe he’s getting a little ahead of himself.

Until he remembers the kitchen smelled like come yesterday.

 

The truth is Stiles feels like he’s in a spy movie, or at least he would if he didn’t have a baby in his arms. It still feels pretty awesome though. Making up covers for the pack and forging signatures, it’s all very Neal Caffrey of him. So not so much a spy as a con-man but Liam might take away from this whole badass con-man thing he’s got going on.

               “Your covers for school are you all went out on the weekend and came down with a bad case of the flu.  And what are your covers for your parents?” he asks as he slips the bottle into Liam’s mouth. The baby sucks at the teat eagerly and stares up at him. He coos at him and extends one of his fingers to rub the pale cheek gently.

It reminds him of Derek, the whole creepy staring thing. Although Liam’s stare isn’t creepy, it’s more like the way he’s seen babies look at their mom’s with unconditional love. It’s probably the way he used to look at his mom. The way he would look at her now if she were still around.

A slap in the face would be underestimating how hard the realisation hits him. It’s more like a kick in the stomach and a punch to the throat. Liam doesn’t have a mom or a dad. He only has a pack, a pack that wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if they knew who he was born to. All through the week he was undecided about looking after Liam but he has no one, only an uncle and an aunt who can’t be that for him. Can’t show an ounce of affection for him, if Derek even knows what affection is. Sunday doesn’t count, that was just a show of possession, not affection.

If anything taught Stiles to be strong when his mother died it was how he still had his dad. He lost half of his world but he still had his dad, even if he turned to alcohol in the first few months. He put their lives back together piece by piece until they were worth living again. His dad being there for him through the panic attacks, through the nightmares, he was there for him through everything until they both learned to be strong. His dad is his everything, if he didn’t have his dad his life wouldn’t have been worth living.

Even though Liam is a baby and it doesn’t affect him now it will. Not having a proper dad or mom-not even having one of those. Children need stable environments and from what Stiles has seen of packs they are dangerous and definitely not a good environment for a child with no parents who will grow up to be an alpha like both his parents. He needs a family not a pack. He needs someone to pick him up when he falls down, to hold him when he cries, to smile at him, to always be there for him.

He needs Stiles.

He has no right for his thoughts. Logically he knows that but emotionally he knows what it’s like to be without a parent. This little baby in his arms is in danger every second he’s in that pack, even with Keira protecting him. There’s always a chance that he’ll be discovered and killed.

How can he leave a little baby alone like that?

Maybe he can approach Derek with his thoughts. No. That’s the worst idea he’s had since Sunday.

               “Our covers are we’re all staying at Isaac’s except Jackson who is staying at Danny’s for whatever reason,” Lydia answers, interrupting Stiles from his thoughts.

               “You did give Danny a reason right or in your freak out did you stupidly forget that?” he asks as he slides the bottle from Liam’s mouth and sits him up on his knee with a towel placed over his legs.

Burping baby attempt one.

He alternates between patting and rubbing Liam’s back while watching Jackson continue trying to murder him with his eyes. It’s amusing for about half a minute before it becomes sad. Jackson would be low on the list of master murder stares. Ranked second lowest on the list, just above Scott who looks like a cat that’s been drenched in cold water when he glares. Maybe, no probably-exactly like Oliver in the part where he gets dried by the air vents and turns into a fluff ball in the movie Oliver and Company.

Maybe he should start calling Scott Oliver.

They might think he’s crazy but it’s hilarious.

               “Good boy, yes you are. You’re such a good boy giving daddy a big manly burp like that. Do you think you have another one for daddy?” he coos when Liam burps.

He purposely ignores Scott’s ‘who are you and what have you done with my best friend’ expression in favour of listening to the incoherent babbles Liam is making. Honestly who wouldn’t ignore Scott for an incredibly cute baby? An incredibly cute baby that has some of the most incredible bone structure he’s ever seen.

Bone structure wise, if he were to mix Jackson, Isaac and Derek you’d end up with something that Aphrodite herself would feel too inferior to look at.

               “I told him I was going out of town with a girl my parents don’t approve of,” he grits out with an indignant roll of his shoulders. He glances at Isaac and ignores the uncomfortable pit in his stomach.

Jackson looks away intent on ignoring the rest of the conversation but catches Lydia’s look. She raises her eyebrow at him in silent question to which he narrows his eyes in reply to. He glimpses the expression on her face as she turns away. He’s going to be using his hand tonight-if they get enough time before they’re being chained up for a week.

It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room in an instant. There’s only a brief moment of feeling nothing before it crashes into him like being swept over by a wave. It burns through his veins causing every inch of him to feel like its being set on fire. It draws him in, make his own desire curl in his stomach and it registers that this feeling isn’t his. Subconscious knowing or not his eyes narrow on Isaac like no one else could emit a feeling like this.

Isaac’s cheeks are flushed scarlet and his back is arched off the sofa. Beautiful isn’t the way to describe it; the sight in front of him is heavenly. Something only he should be able to see. The heat in his veins intensifies until his blood is boiling.

He’s standing, just about to jump the younger boy and do everything this emotion Isaac is going through wants him to do when Erica and Scott are pinning him to the ground. He wiggles around, bucking up, trying to get to Isaac.

The last thing he remembers before his vision goes dark and Scott’s fist colliding with his face is Derek growling out, ‘Of all of you who could go into heat early it had to be you,’ before punching Isaac.

 

Stiles honestly doesn’t know where to start, even if he did he doesn’t trust himself enough to make sure it’s human proof. He tells himself it’s just a baby cot, that he can overcome this obstacle of too many screws and no instructions. In the end he sits on the bed with his laptop beside him and scrolls through links that aren’t much help. Liam doesn’t seem to mind though, he’s perfectly happy sleeping in the carry thing he is carried around in.

               “Stiles, you home?” his dad calls.

He scrambles off the bed and rushes to the door, sliding through the gap before his dad makes it up the stairs and shutting it behind him. Plastering a smile on his face Stiles leans against the doorway and nods his head. If he nods it too many times his dad doesn’t say anything, just gives him his usual ‘what did you break now?’ look and waits patiently at the top of the stairs.

“Hey. Hi. Yo dad. I thought-I mean weren’t you supposed to be working late. You always do on a Friday.” Stiles tries to keep the smile on his face but his dad changes tactics and gives him his interrogative stare.

He almost caves. That stare makes him feel like every layer of his being is being flayed off, piece by piece until his soul is presented to his dad, exposed for all his secrets to see.

               “I’m only here to check on you. We found two bodies in the woods a few miles away from the Hale house. I know you and Scott like hiking through there but stay out of there Stiles,” the Sheriff states, his gaze not wavering.

The words are on the tip of his tongue, the, ‘We won’t go out there I swear,’ when a piercing wail resonates from behind the door. Muttering a, ‘Damn it,’ he rushes back into the room and picks up Liam.

               “Shh, it’s okay baby boy. Daddy’s here, its okay. You can go back to sleep now baby boy,” he coos as he rocks the baby gently.

Liam turns human again just as his dad wobbles into the doorway of his room. He ignores the problem of, ‘Baby and father in same room,’ instead focusing on finding the stuffed wolf teddy that Liam kicked out of the carry thingy. He kind of thinks Derek bought it earlier this week and rubbed himself all over it so it smells like him-and it does, all wolfy scent and musky Derek cologne.

Derek explained it to him in one of their awkward conversations since Sunday. A baby werewolf remembers the scent of its parents from the first week it’s born. It’s odd and not at all convenient for adoption but apparently that’s how the baby knows its parents. He also explained that Laura and he have the same underlying scent that causes Liam to associate parent with Derek, as well as he was there when Liam was born and during the first month of his life. Liam never met Connor so he doesn’t have that same parent bond with Keira but the scents they give off to one another tells Liam that Keira is a friend, someone to like.

If this were a cartoon Stiles thinks a light bulb might turn on above his head as he can see the meaning behind everything Derek said to him.

Derek smells like parent. Derek rubs all over Stiles. Stiles smells like Derek. Derek smells like parent. Stiles smells like Derek. Stiles smells like parent.

If he could punch Derek without breaking his fist he would because this is not fair. He thought it was a possession thing, the whole, ‘Wear my clothes and let me rub against you,’ thing he’s had going on the entire week. Not including Sunday. Sunday was-well, Sunday is never being thought about again. Except that he thinks about it every day. But no, it was a way of making Liam realise that Stiles is his parent also.

They’re Liam’s parents.

 

The conversation is going well all things considered. Okay it’s a fucking disaster. His dad hasn’t accepted any of his reasons as to why he has a baby. He even tried, ‘He’s mine,’ which only earned him a slap upside the back of his head and the equivalent of a growl from Liam towards his father. It’s endearing to know his son likes him enough to protect him from evil doers even as a baby. Not that his father is an evil doer just someone who has some All Seeing Eye stashed in the back of his closet that allows him to know when someone isn’t telling the truth.

That might be exaggerating just a little on his behalf.

               “Does this have anything to do with Derek Hale?” his dad asks with a note of exhaustion, staring at him pointedly. “I know about you two being seen acting inappropriately in the grocery store on Saturday. If he belongs to Derek and you think looking after his ki-”

               “Liam is mine. Look dad, I can’t explain it all to you right now but the basics are he’s got no stable home and no real family. I’m not doing this because of Derek. I’m doing this because this innocent little baby needs a family,” Stiles pauses and looks down into the wide grey-green eyes staring back at him adoringly. “When mom died I thought I’d never get through it, but I had you. Liam has no one. He doesn’t have a mom or a dad and his biological family can’t be that for him right now. It’d just be for a while-until his family get on their feet again.”

               “Stiles looking after a baby is a hard job, one neither of us is equipped for. He’s a living being. You have to feed him, change him, wash him, and look after him twenty four hours a day. You’re seventeen years old and in no position to be looking after a child.”

               “I know that but I can’t leave him alone. Derek is out of town for the week but I promise once he comes back you can personally escort me home-I mean escort me taking him home.” His voice breaks on ‘home’ and he clears his throat before looking away.

That’s what it’s become to him, a sort of second home. Sometimes he spends more time there than he does at his own house. They’re not friends with Derek and certainly couldn’t be called family but with the rest of the pack there, it’s a home. Derek included even if he doesn’t see it that way, if he never sees it that way.

A sigh escapes the Sheriff’s lips and Stiles is ready to continue his argument, ready to argue all night if he has to, but his dad stands up and walks over to the baby cot.

               “Go start on dinner. Make sure you warm his bottle properly too.”

He gets to the doorway, Liam still in his arms, before turning back to the Sheriff and puckering his lips. “Uh, dad?” Stiles hesitates and shifts on the balls of his feet.

               “Don’t tell me you actually did break something?” he questions, the corners of his lips pulling down.

Stiles might be offended his dad actually believes that being left unsupervised for a few hours is going to result in something broken. The Sheriff might have basis for some of his belief because there was that one time at Aunt Elizabeth’s that he broke a six hundred dollar vase and there was the time he broke the toaster and almost set the house on fire. He was young and reckless back then so it’s not exactly his fault.

 Only it is.  

               “How do I make the bottle?”

               “Oh Christ.”

 

Stiles made a deal with his dad that he can stay for a week and no longer. Stiles would have to go to school every day-it’s too important to miss if he wants to get into a good college, preferably Stanford-and find someone to look after him during the hours he’s at school.

This is how he ended up on the door step of Allison’s house. He might be a little bit desperate for someone who knows about werewolves to look after him.

Swapping the baby carrier to his other hand Stiles knocks on the door quickly. There’s a shuffling of feet inside and the door is swung open by Allison’s dad. Stiles opens his mouth to automatically give a polite greeting but stops dead when he actually realises what Chris looks like.

If he had a thing for older men with really beautiful eyes and stubbles that he wants to rub his face against then he would totally be thinking mister Argent is hot. Which he doesn’t so obviously he doesn’t think mister Argent is hot.

Except he totally does and this is Allison’s dad, who threatened to kill him, who tried to kill Scott and who still scares the shit out of him.

               “Stiles, what do you want?” Chris rasps before clearing his throat and pulling the door closed a little more to stop Stiles from sneaking a look inside.

Stiles’ mind kicks into gear when Liam makes the baby noise equivalent of, ‘Stiles you’re on another planet come back to earth now.’ He forces out a sheepish smile and stops trying to think about Allison’s dad being hot and well, looking like he’s in the middle of a very good make out session. “I kind of have a problem that I need your help with.”

               “Can it-”

               “I have a baby werewolf that I need you to look after,” he blurts softly and watches as the realisation dawns on the older man’s face.

Chris yanks him inside by his collar and ushers him into the living room before muttering an, ‘I’ll be right back.’ Stiles grins awkwardly as Chris jogs up the stairs and makes his way into the living room. Sitting down on the sofa he picks Liam up and holds the baby close to his chest, listening to him babble happily.

Mister Argent comes back in a few moments later, looking less dishevelled but there’s a blooming love bite just visible above his collar bone. If there was every any doubt in Stiles’ mind that Mister Argent was making out with someone before he got here there isn’t now.

               “Uhm,” Stiles starts and points to just above his collar bone. Chris has enough decency to flush slightly and clear his throat edging him to continue. “I kind of need you to babysit for the week while Allison and I are at school. I don’t exactly have anyone else to ask and no questions allowed. You do this for me and I’ll-I’ll owe you one?”

               “What could you possibly do for me?” Chris questions and stares at the baby in Stiles’ arms.

               “Well I’m good with lots of things, I can tell you the entire history of the male circumcision-or you know I could tell you that it might possibly be the week when all the werewolves go into heat?”

Stiles catches the amusement flicker in Allison’s dad’s eyes and looks around awkwardly. He closes his arms tighter around Liam and rubs his back to stop the baby growls coming from him.

               “I already know that Stiles, it’s my duty to know when werewolves go into heat. I also know about the New York pack that’s here and the two bodies found in the woods were werewolves,” Chris finishes then adds offhandedly, like it’s not a big deal, “and killed by hunters.”

Stiles takes the information and stores it in the back of his mind to later tell Allison so they can investigate. If there are new hunters in town nothing good can come of this, it’s probably not an accident either.

“You owe me one Stiles and when I call it in you will pay me back.” There’s a warning in the statement that doesn’t need to be said for Stiles to hear it. He gets it. Help the crazy hunters or bad things happen.

He passes Liam over to Chris reluctantly, pressing one last kiss to the top of his head and places the baby bag on the sofa. “So I guess I’ll see you after school little man. When daddy comes to pick you up he’ll take you to see grandpa at work and we can have dinner with him. Then we’ll spend the night at home.”

               “Get out now.”

Stiles sends one last, if not slightly frightened, smile towards Allison’s dad and Liam and turns on is heel to go to school. He was only an hour late, it wouldn’t matter. He makes it hallways across the room before stopping dead in his tracks.

A tall raven haired boy with the iciest blue eyes and pale skin glares at him like he wants to murder him on the spot. Not to mention completely naked save for the hand cuffs still attached to one wrist.

There might have been a knot at the base of his erection too but Stiles didn’t spend too much time looking at that particular area of nakedness.

               “Chris, you need to fuck me right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise for taking so long to update. This chapter has been almost finished for a month but I couldn't figure out what to do with the final scene until this morning so I do hope you enjoy. And thank you to everyone sticking with this fic.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Teen Wolf fanfiction so I hope you guys like it.


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